


Enslaved

by TheMilahsKillyBear



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-24 08:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13807275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMilahsKillyBear/pseuds/TheMilahsKillyBear
Summary: Killian’s years as a slave and a sailor. It’s a short piece, but it will be multi-chapter. Be warned, it is heavy with whump, and there are a lot of potential triggers in this one. Non-consent, slavery, whipping, just to name a few. Be warned, and don’t read if it’s not your thing.





	1. Chapter 1

Blood. Pain. Agony, really, but Killian’s mind was unable to create words that deep. He had remained silent as his shirt was torn from his back, silent as the whip sang through the air, and the only sound he made was a grunt of pain, barely audible under the creaking of the ropes that bound his wrists and the crack of the whip as it struck the same place twice. His back was a mass of blood and torn flesh, the latest punishment visited on him due to Silver’s need to break him of his spirit. A thing that had yet to be accomplished, though not for lack of trying. His back bore the scars from other fruitless attempts, each one cleaned with rum. The burn from that combined with the pain from the lashes, always led to Killian falling unconscious. 

  
The lashes were nothing compared to the punishments he received as a young man, hardly a man grown, which he somehow managed to keep secret from Liam. During every beating, he would slip back into the memory of those times, the physical pain dulling compared to the pain and humiliation of those days. It had been before Silver, who showed no interest in Killian that way. It was a different man who owned both Killian and Liam, two or three years before Silver bought them. A man who kept Killian chained in his own cabin, bound hand and foot, gagged, and in the darkness. He was supplied with rum and enough food to keep him alive, but not enough to keep him strong. The captain feared his retaliation, Killian understood later, though not enough to prevent him from taking Killian by force. Rape was common in those years, more than once per night, and sometimes even as a shared experience. The captain would reward loyalty among the crew with private time with his personal slave, a thing well-appreciated during the months at sea. Since those days, Killian had never let a man touch him below the waist, and had gone so far as to gut a man who tried, staining the deck red with blood. Killian’s would later mingle with the stains, his first of many whippings. 

The years passed, and Killian and Liam both earned their freedom, with Killian rising to the rank of lieutenant. He reveled in his freedom during the day, but at night? At night he would either have nightmares of being enslaved again, or remain awake for days at a time, drive himself to exhaustion until Liam ordered him to his cabin to sleep.Then Liam was gone. Taken by poison. Killian was shattered, and fled the navy, taking the ship. It wasn’t long before the men mutinied against him, replacing him with a more experienced sailor, and sold Killian to a slave market. His master beat him cruelly, then decided the reward for his capture was worth more. Whipped and bruised, covered in cuts, bruises, and various other injuries, he escaped the cell he was imprisoned within, the only mark of it a thick steel collar around his neck, and fled into the forest. He lived there for years, on the run, stealing to survive, until another slave owner captured him.  
  


It had been five years after Liam’s death. Killian had been arrested, then sold as a slave to the highest bidder once again. From there, he was sent from house to house at his master’s whim, doing whatever he was told. One night, a storm picked up and the lord of the house he had just been at had instructed him to wait at the local tavern until the storm passed before traveling on again. Killian had obeyed, of course, and so was tucked into a corner table with a meal and a glass of ale. His gaze roamed over the tavern briefly before he looked down again, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. His years as a confident young man were gone, replaced with the need to be hidden and obedient in order to ensure his survival. Of course, in every tavern, there was always at least one person who noticed him. Tonight? Tonight it was a man who made his way over to Killian’s table and sat down beside Killian. Killian attempted to move away, hoping the man would take the hint, but of course he wasn’t so lucky and a glass of wine was quickly spilled all over his leather pants. He cursed before trying to push the man’s hands away from himself. “I’m fine. Please, stop.”  
  


The man ignored him, continuing to paw at him, eventually getting Killian to his feet and pressing him against the wall. Killian struggled, trying to break free, but his strength was failing him. He was exhausted, and the meal he had been given was not enough to restore him fully. Because of that, Killian was helpless before the man who was determined to rape him. He never saw who pulled the man off, but someone had. Someone who then seized him by the collar round his neck and dragged him off into another room, upstairs, and shoved him onto the bed. He landed on his back, crying out, and stared at the hooded figure as he or she bound his hands tightly, and his mind returned to the days when he was a young man…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definite trigger warnings here. Read at your own risk; non-con, heavy whump, intense beating, just to name a few. If you're not into that, don't read it. You have been warned.

He landed on his back, crying out, and stared at the hooded figure as he or she bound his hands tightly, and his mind returned to the days when he was a young man. Until the hooded figure spoke and revealed that his captor was a woman. “Shut up.” She ordered coldly, closing and locking the door to the room before removing her cloak and tossing it aside carelessly. Killian stared at her, more than a little frightened, and wished desperately that he’d taken his chances in the rain. At least then he’d only be wet, possibly sick, but now he was trapped in a room with no way out, a woman who kept eyeing him like he was the first meal she’d seen in months, and on top of that, he was still in pain from the day’s activities.  
  
“What do you want with me?” Killian finally asked, shivering lightly. His clothes were soaked from the wine, and it was cold out. The woman stared at him, then sneered. “I want you to shut up.” She waved her hand, and a gag appeared in his mouth, forcing him to remain silent. Killian made a sound around the gag, and she scowled at him, taking a whip out of her pocket. His eyes widened, and he moved away from her, backing himself into the corner of the room, his back to the wall.  
  
She raised her hand and struck him hard, some blood appearing from his split lip. “Did I say you could move? You belong to me now, and I’m damn well going to enjoy you.” Killian’s eyes widened as he stared at her, then he was chained to the bed on his back, his arms pulled taut above his head and his legs chained to each corner of the bed, his clothes gone, his manhood on full display between his parted thighs. The woman raised her whip, uncoiling it slowly. She climbed up on the bed and looped it around his neck, then pulled it free hard, leaving a cut on his shoulder and the back of his neck.  
  
He cried out, the blood welling up and staining his skin bright red. Another whip crack followed, this one across his chest, and he gasped at the pain, feeling as though he were on fire. She reached down and stroked his manhood, then conjured a bowl of water and let it run down his body, washing away the blood that had spilled quickly.  
  
Killian grunted, trying to pull away, but the chains held him tightly, biting into his wrists, leaving them raw and bloody, but she was insistent, and her hand was firmly stroking and pulling at his manhood, the pleasure mixed with the pain until he could no longer tell one from the other. He tried to focus on the least arousing thing possible, but found himself unable to. His manhood throbbed under her touch, and before very long, his seed was mixed with the dried blood, painting his skin in white and red, some of his seed landing in the cut on his chest, making him black out for a moment.  
  
When he came to, she was naked, and perched between his thighs. “I’m not nearly done with you yet, slave.” She said, slapping him across the face once more, her other hand holding a small bag of something. He stared at her, the gag preventing him from saying anything, then he closed his eyes again, wishing for sleep to claim him. But it never did.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and critiques feed the muse. :)


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